


Weirdos

by Mrs Addams (Scoutieout)



Series: Together [2]
Category: Fleabag (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:55:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27306637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scoutieout/pseuds/Mrs%20Addams
Summary: Set shortly after my first fic, Save the Intent.  Fleabag and Priest navigate their new relationship after the church celibacy requirement is lifted.
Relationships: Fleabag/Priest (Fleabag)
Series: Together [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1993657
Comments: 13
Kudos: 58





	1. Choir practice

**Author's Note:**

> Two things went into this one: an absolutely adorable picture of Andrew Scott, head down on a table, seemingly asleep (seriously, Google "Andrew Scott sleeping" - you won't be sorry with the pix). Also, Scala & Kolacny Brothers did an amazing cover of Radiohead's "Creep" that has a very churchy sound to it. I love this song and think our Priest would relate to it.

She walked briskly down the sidewalk, grateful she had thought to grab her coat before leaving the flat. The cool night air wavered between pleasant and biting when the wind kicked up, blowing leaves and debris around everyone who was out and about. She was headed to the church to pick up her Priest for a dreaded dinner at her Dad’s house (she refused to acknowledge that it was also her Godmother’s home); between the two of them, they had finally run out of plausible excuses and had to face the fact that they couldn’t avoid them forever. 

Her dad had been quite pleased when they broke the news of their relationship, but Godmother had practically been fit to be tied. She’d spent most of the evening with a slightly too wide fake smile plastered on her face, overcompensating for her fury with copious amounts of alcohol and complisults (“I am so, _so_ happy for the two of you! Really! Father, you should be commended for making your first priestly relationship such a challenge, accepting my unhinged stepdaughter and all of her questionable life choices. You have _such_ a big heart!”).

They had kept their relationship (Yes! An actual functioning adult relationship!) quiet for a good bit, not wanting to raise suspicions at the swiftness of their coupling or be subjected to gossip as they navigated their new life together. Lately, though, she had been coming ‘round to the church more since they had started to be more open with their status. The Priest had practically begged her to, hoping her presence would deter his more persistent parishioners. She loved the raised eyebrows and whispers she received whenever she appeared, feeling almost like a celebrity of sorts.

Ever since the pope had lifted the celibacy requirement, there was a rotating circle of church women trying to cram their feet into Cinderella’s slipper, as it were. They were always fawning over the Priest, bringing him goodies and finding any excuse to touch him: a hand on his chest as they laughed a little too hard at something, brushing imaginary lint off his shoulder, that kind of thing. He took it all in stride, though, arms usually crossed against his chest to subtly protect himself from their advances while he made it a point to mention his love often. Besides, Pam often worked interference as it was; no one was getting their hands on her Priest, as far as she was concerned.

Once they became public and she started showing up at the church more often, some of the more aggressive mums took it as a challenge. When they inquired why she wasn’t a member of the church, she delighted in sharing that she was an atheist, smirking when their eyes got wide as they tried to maintain their composure. “Oh, but it must be _so hard_ ,” one trilled to the two of them, “maintaining a relationship when there’s such a massive disagreement in religious beliefs!” The Priest had shot his love an amused look, raising his eyebrows and silently willing her not to crack just “how hard” it all was, as she most certainly would. She’d smiled serenely back at him before politely assuring the “concerned” woman that they had many, many, _many_ constructive methods of solving their disagreements.

“Besides, I love that we have different views on religion and faith,” he’d supplied, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “Otherwise we’d just be like any other ordinary, boring church couple.” 

She entered the church quietly since it was youth choir practice night, which meant there were bound to be some admirers who pretended to watch their children sing while covertly checking out her Priest. Sure enough, there was a pack of three mums off to the right who nudged one another and whispered as she entered. She scanned the church for her love before flashing them a winning smile. They smiled back before resuming their whispering, eyes narrowed as they most certainly critiqued her outfit and wondered what he saw in her.

Scheming cows.

She spotted him sitting alone in the back row on the left, arms draped on the pew in front of him, chin resting on his hands with his eyes closed. Knowing how easily he startled and not wanting to disrupt the choir with his inevitable yelp of surprise, she whispered a barely audible “Psst!” as her fingertips brushed his shoulder with a butterfly’s touch. 

He opened his eyes and smiled. “Hey,” he whispered. “You’re early.”

“I almost thought you were asleep,” she whispered back, quietly settling down beside him and gently brushing his hair off his forehead (take that, mums!). 

“No, just enjoying the music,” he replied, nudging his chin towards the choir. “They’re getting ready for some sort of competition or something, so they’re using tonight as a dress rehearsal.” He sat back on the pew, crossing his arms across his chest and stretching his neck from side to side.

She turned her attention back to the choir, a mixture of secondary school students all dressed alike in navy school uniforms. She scanned the rows and breathed a sigh of relief when she didn’t see Jake. No Jake meant no Martin ambush, thank fuck. She’d occasionally run into him at the church, catching him staring daggers at her and making snide remarks about how she’d managed to bag the Priest. Bastard.

_“I don’t care if it hurts_

_I want to have control_

_I want a perfect body_

_I want a perfect soul”_

“Are they singing Radiohead?” she asked, surprised. “Bit progressive, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he grinned. “Sure beats the hell out of all the usual church hymns.”

“You should let them sing this during mass,” she joked. “Maybe you’d have a better turnout.”

“Works for me,” he shrugged before resuming his position on the pew in front of him. She mirrored his position, elbows touching. They rested their cheeks on their hands, facing one another. “They love being able to sing the word “hell” in church, though sadly the choir director changed the lyric from ‘fucking special’ to ‘very special’. Some of them still try to sneak it in, though. I do, too.”

“Pity,” she said. “That’d be pretty fucking awesome to hear.” She felt a bit like they were disobedient school children, cutting class and whispering away in the back of the church, but since he was the Priest no one would dare to admonish them. “By the way, your fan club was pleased to see me arrive.”

He raised his head slightly to peer over her and check them out. “Eh, they’re harmless.” He rolled his eyes as he settled back down.

“Well, as long as they understand just whose lips are going to be wrapped around your cock at the end of the night.” She smiled wickedly.

“Jesus!” he sputtered a laugh, then leaned in closer to whisper, “I love it when you get jealous!”

“I’m not jealous!’’ she said indignantly. “I’m smug. There’s a difference.”

“Sure.” He rested his forehead on his hands for a moment before looking back at her. “You do know you have nothing to worry about, right?”

“Oh, I know, “ she grinned. “Just poking fun.” _And making sure those uppity bitches know what’s up,_ she wanted to add. 

_“But I’m a creep_

_I’m a weirdo_

_What the hell am I doing here?_

_I don’t belong here”_

“I’ve always loved this song,” he sighed. “It may as well have been about me as a youth.”

“Oh, you’re not a creep,” she reassured him, briefly wondering if he’d gone through some sort of goth phase in his teen years, complete with smudged eyeliner. _That’d have been hot_. “You are a bit of a weirdo, though, but that’s one of the many things I love about you.” She nudged his elbow with hers.

“Thanks,” he nudged back. “Hang on, I love this bit.” He closed his eyes as the choir reached the bridge, quietly half singing, half humming along.

_“She’s running out the door_

_She’s running out_

_She run, run, run, run_

_Run”_

She gazed at him with a small smile, admiring the way his lovely eyelashes fluttered on his cheeks when his brow furrowed. The swelling in her chest matched the swelling of the choir, and she once again silently thanked the pope for lifting the celibacy rule so they could share quiet moments like this.

“They really do sound beautiful,” she remarked dreamily, as the choir voices lifted and filled the church with magnificence. She could see why they preferred practicing in the church; the acoustics were amazing.

“Like fucking angels,” he sighed, eyes still squeezed shut. It was so peaceful that she wished they could stay here all night instead of heading out for what was sure to be an unpleasant evening. She made a mental note to attend the next choir practice, if only to see what the rest of their set was like. 

They both whisper-sang “You’re so fucking special” in the last verse to one another and grinned like naughty schoolchildren. They applauded with the parents when the song finished, and the Priest sat up, both hands on the pew in front of him. “Well, shall we get going?”

“Ugh, do we have to?” she grimaced. “I’m sure we’d be much happier here.”

“I know, love, but obligations call.” He offered his hand as she stood, and they exited the church together. The mums noticed and watched them go with strained smiles. Ha.

Once they got outside, the Priest pulled her to a darkened part of the sidewalk to give her a proper kiss hello, arms sliding around her waist and pulling her close. 

“Mmm, you taste like chocolate,” she murmured, arms circling his neck.

“One of the mums brought homemade biscuits tonight,” he replied. She had to give them an A for effort, at the very least. They exploited his sweet tooth often, apparently hoping to win him over with biscuits and other baked goods. 

She rested her chin on his shoulder and whined, “Honestly, let’s skip this nightmare dinner. How about we just head to mine, get a takeaway and fuck?” 

“As tempting as that is, it’s a bit late to cancel. Besides, with your godmother’s cooking, there might still be a takeaway in our plans for the night.” He winced. “Do you want to have some sort of signal or code word, though, when you’re ready to leave?”

“’I want to fucking leave’, that’s my signal. So, when you hear that—”

“—it’s time to fucking leave. Got it.” He gave her a final squeeze before taking her hand to start walking. She stayed planted on the spot, with him tugging her arm to get her to move. “Come on, the sooner we get this started, the sooner we can end it and carry on with the rest of your ideas for the evening.” He winked and grinned, making her sincerely wish for a call from her dad that her godmother had a sudden urge to paint or sculpt and needed to cancel. Damn family commitments. 


	2. Matchmaker, Matchmaker, Go F Yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arriving at Dad's to find some rather interesting new friends.

“Ready?” the Priest asked, finger poised to ring the bell.

“I want to fucking leave,” she replied.

“Nope,” he answered, pushing the bell. “We have to at least make it over the threshold first.” He gave her hand a squeeze before Godmother threw the door open, all gauzy scarves and air kisses, the strong scent of her perfume and chardonnay wafting out the door.

“Hello, darlings!” she exclaimed, pulling the Priest in for a tight hug and kiss. She had gotten even more handsy with him since she found out about their relationship, using any excuse to drape herself all over him. It was rather nauseating, actually.

“Good evening,” he replied cheerily, untangling himself and helping his love with her coat. Godmother took both coats from him and shoved them at her stepdaughter.

“Here, darling, do hang these in the closet and then head into the sitting room. There’s someone in there I’m dying for you to meet!” She hooked her arm through the Priest’s and led him down the hall. “And _you_ , Father, you must come up to my studio! I would love to get your opinion on a few of my current projects!”

“Oh, there’s others here besides us tonight, then?” she trailed after them, curiosity piqued. At least then they wouldn’t be the center of attention.

“Just a few of my art students. Very talented and unique individuals! Father, I am _so_ excited to introduce you to one of my new friends!”

“Tap-dancing mute?” he mouthed to her over his shoulder, making a face. She shrugged and tapped her watch, determined that they wouldn’t have to stay long if there were other guests around to distract and entertain her Godmother.

“And she’s into witchcraft!” Godmother’s voice floated down the hall. Surely she had misheard, or else her Priest was in for quite the introduction upstairs.

After hanging the coats in the hall closet, she ventured into the sitting room to find her dad and a tall dark-haired man examining one of Godmother’s sculptures. “You see, this part here could very well represent all of humanity, if you look at it a bit sideways.” The man was saying.

“Hello,” she called, joining them. 

“Why, hello darling!” Dad greeted her, kissing her cheek. “This is Clive, one of your stepmother’s assistants,” he said, gesturing to the dark-haired man.

“Student, actually. Hello, I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said, extending his hand.

“None of it true, I’m sure,” she rolled her eyes and laughed, taking his hand in hers. “What were you just saying about the sculpture and humanity?” She eyed it, trying to discern what in the hell it was supposed to be. It looked like half an oval skewered on a corncob, honestly.

“Oh, just that it’s amazing how she was able to capture humanity at its most vulnerable, in such a simple piece.” Clive nodded at it admiringly.

“If you say so,” she shrugged. “Looks like a cock fucking an even larger cock to me.”

“Wow, you have quite the eye for art. Are you an artist, too?” Clive smiled and looked her up and down.

“Not quite. I own a café,” she answered. Dad smiled and nodded.

“Quite the businesswoman, this one…busy, creating…work,” Dad bumbled, raising his drink.

“How’ve you been, Dad?” she asked, putting her hand on his arm in a sort of half-hug.

“Oh, you know…this…and…well,” _Oh, yes, it’s going to be a long night_ , she thought as Clive launched into a story about his studies in Morocco and Godmother’s influence on his work.

She excused herself a few minutes later and had just poured them two tumblers of whiskey (God knew they’d better start drinking hard and fast) when the Priest came scurrying down the stairs and into the kitchen.

“Made you a dri-“ she started, which he snatched out of her hand and downed in one gulp. “You alright?” she asked.

“Oh, Father, I wondered where you’d run off to! Come, I just want to show you another piece I’ve been working on!” Godmother gushed.

“I’m, er…I just…might, I’m er…” Oh, God, he was sounding like her dad. Something must’ve happened. “Outside, I’m…just going to have a quick smoke, if you don’t mind.”

“I’ll join you,” she said quickly, slamming her tumbler on the counter before they practically pushed one another through the back door in their haste to escape outside.

She led him to the bench near the roses and lit them both a cigarette. He rarely smoked since giving up the habit years ago, so something was obviously troubling him. He had admitted to her ages ago that his fib about being a “fellow smoker” the night they met had just been an excuse to try to talk to her alone. He practically inhaled half the cigarette in one drag, then exhaled slowly while gazing up at the sky. Knowing smoking was bad for both of them, she couldn’t help but notice how hot he made it look, though, and immediately started to fantasize: him in a suit, reclining back in a chair, exhaling smoke just like that and watching her with lust-filled eyes while she bent over and—

“What exactly is going on here tonight?” he interrupted her thoughts, turning on the bench so he was half facing her.

“Well, it appears that Godmother is trying to set us up with a pair of her bizarre ‘friends’. Mine’s been telling me about how he plans to remain celibate until there is an end to all world hunger. Apparently she thinks I have a type.” She patted his cheek jokingly. 

“Yes, well, while your new friend was _not_ trying to get off with you, I was being sexually harassed in your Godmother’s studio.” he grimaced.

“Oh God, what did she do?” Honestly, she was an absolute cow, unable to keep her hands to herself even with her husband one floor below.

“So, she’s showing me various pieces of her art – a preview of Sexhibition 2.0 – and insists I feel the texture of one she’s holding out, and, oh, hey! Turns out it’s a cast of her vagina!”

“Then why did you touch it?!” she exclaimed.

“I thought it was a flower!”

“Have you never paid attention to what one looks like?” She was fully laughing at him now.

“I am quite familiar with the beauty of a vagina, thank you very much. But it had all these…fucking… curlicues and dangly bits on it, how was I to know it was, well, _her_? Stop laughing, this isn’t funny!” Poor thing, he was really agitated and more fidgety than usual. She started gently massaging the back of his neck to try to calm him down. She tried to hold in her laughter, but it just came out as a snort.

“Yeah, laugh all you want, but just know that these fingers –” he wiggled them for emphasis, “—have now touched your Godmother’s twat.” 

“ _Please_ never say that sentence again,” she demanded, rubbing his neck more forcefully. He tucked his chin so she’d have better access. “You know,” she added wickedly, “She’ll probably be thinking that the next time she comes.”

“Yeah, while she’s fucking your dad,” he shot back. “Oof!” he exclaimed after she swatted the back of his head. “Seriously, though, why is she trying to set us up with other people? She knows we’re together.”

“Because,” she sighed and rolled her eyes. “She doesn’t _want_ us to be together. She can see that I’ve corrupted you with my various orifices and cannot stand to see me happy. She’s trying to save you from me.”

“I’m not so sure she has such a high opinion of me, then, either,” he pouted. “My new friend? The one into witchcraft? I thought maybe we’d be able to have a friendly debate on the differences in our religions, figuring she’s Wiccan or something. Turns out,” he gestured to the house with his cigarette, “she’s under the delusion that she’s an actual soul-stealing, curse-wielding fucking _witch_ , straight out of Grimms’ fairy tales!”

“Oh wow, you win,” she conceded. “What, so she told you about spells she’s cast or something? Does she have a broom?”

“Again, not funny,” the Priest huffed. She bit back her smile as he went on. “She informed me that as a Catholic priest, there’s a spot reserved for me in hell where I will most certainly end up being the devil’s fuck-toy because of what ‘my people’ did to ‘her people’ all those years ago.” He stamped out his cigarette and sighed. “But here’s the best part: she then saw fit to show me her tattoo, of a fox, on her tit. A _fox_. On her _tit_!”

“You are making this up!” She couldn’t hold back her laughter any longer. No wonder he’d been so jumpy after he’d joined her in the kitchen. Only 15 minutes in and he’d been subjected to one indignity after another. “So did she tear her shirt open, or just pop out the one tit? Where was it exactly?”

“It’s on the top swell,” he gestured on her tit, “so she just pulled her shirt down a bit, thank God. But a fucking fox? Come on!”

“I thought you were finally over that bloody fox nonsense.” She finished her cigarette and tossed it on the ground. Maybe she could burn down the garden and they could end the evening prematurely.

“I’ll admit, since we’ve been together they seem to have backed off,” he sighed. She never did admit that she sent one after him the night they broke up. “But of all things, it had to be a fox.” He shook his head. “I don’t think your Godmother’s a good person.”

She snorted, “You’re just now figuring this out? I know you like to see the good in people, but I’m not sure there’s any there to be seen. She will most likely do whatever it takes to try to split us up because that’s the kind of person she is.”

“She can try all she wants, never gonna happen.” He wound an arm around her waist. “Does your offer to blow me in her garden just to spite her still stand?” he asked wryly, referencing her fury from when she thought Godmother was propositioning him the day the pope lifted the celibacy rule.

“Well, if poor Clive looks out the window and sees that, he might decide to chuck all the starving children in the world, so a kiss will have to do.”

“That works,” he smiled, leaning in and capturing her lips with his. They spent several minutes forgetting witches and vaginas and focusing only on savoring one another until they heard a throat clearing behind them.

“Er, ah, your ah…” her dad sputtered. “Eh…dinner.” He gestured to the house before turning and heading back inside.

Her Priest looked at her with a sheepish grin. “Too late for us to sneak out, then. Do you suppose he’s upset that we’re hiding?”

“Not the first time my dad’s caught me snogging a boy in the garden,” she grinned. “Come on, love, obligations call.” she said, teasing him with his words from earlier. “Let’s get this over with.”

"Can I invoke the 'I want to fucking leave' option?" he asked, bending over to retrieve their cigarette remnants while she admired the view.

"Too late! Besides, I want to meet this fox-titted witch. She sounds much more interesting that a tap-dancing mute!"


	3. A Little White Lie Between Frenemies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well, seems you should know about something serious like that, if you’re really committed to a relationship. You could very well poison the poor man!”
> 
> “Like you were about to?” She replied, smirking.

“And it was then that I knew, I just felt deep within me, that I had a very special sort of power that I shouldn’t have to hide or suppress,” Lilac, she of the fox tattoo and derision of the Catholic church, was saying. 

She nodded along, intrigued by the petite blonde who looked nothing like she imagined. True to her name, she had purple streaks in her hair that matched the stars on her dress. She glanced across the sitting room to find the Priest in an animated conversation with Clive, and wondered what they were talking about. She caught his eye, held up her glass and nodded toward the kitchen. “Would you excuse me?” she said sweetly to Lilac. “I definitely want to hear more about your first spell later, though.”

Once in the kitchen, she topped off their drinks and pushed his glass towards him. “Your foxy girlfriend wants to have a threesome,” she said after taking a sip.

“Oh? With you and me, or you and Clive? Or –- “ he gasped, face lighting up with glee, “—you and your Godmoth—”

“Don’t!” she winced, placing a finger to his lips to silence him. “I’m not sure, actually. There’s no way I’m letting her get her claws into you, though, so I declined.”

“Good.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Is that, er, something you’re interested in, then?” he asked, swallowing nervously.

“Not really. Why? Are you?” she asked, slightly surprised.

“Um, I don’t want to seem controlling or oppressive…but… I’m really not interested in sharing you with anyone.”

“How about we table the idea for when the spark is gone and we need something to rekindle it?” she joked. “You know, like when we’re in our 50s and bored with one another?”

“Deal.” They clinked glasses. “So your friend Clive…turns out he has a rather skewed definition of celibacy. He wanks to webcam girls but says it doesn’t count since they’re not in the same room.”

She tutted. “Typical. Did you set him straight?”

“I didn’t have the heart to. He’s acting like he’s making a big sacrifice, though, and I want to say to him that he has no clue what sacrifice really is. All those years…” He shook his head.

“I don’t know how you did it. I don’t think I could go much longer than a day.” She shuddered and took his hand in hers.

“I know,” he grinned. “You’re insatiable.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. I haven’t heard any complaints from you, though!”

“Nor will you.” He replied, kissing her hand.

“Ugh, what the hell is that?” She gestured at the counter, where apparently dinner was laid out, ready to be served. Each plate contained a large salad with a fairly sizable octopus on top, tentacles arranged artfully in a swirl pattern.

The Priest leaned closer to examine, exclaiming “Oh, fuck no, I’m not eating that! Sorry.” He turned to her and apologized. “That’s rude, isn’t it?”

“Don’t apologize to me, I didn’t create that monstrosity. I want to fu—”

“Oh, darlings, you’re back! Is everything alright?” Godmother burst into the kitchen, drink in hand and slightly plastered smile on her face.

“We were just admiring the food presentation,” she lied, faking a smile of her own.

“Yes, I’m terribly sorry, but I, um, I cannot eat this.” The Priest stammered. She was impressed that he was actually going to say no to Godmother. “I’m allergic…to…octopus.”

“Oh, my goodness!” Godmother clutched her hand to her chest. “You are? I had no idea one could be allergic to octopus!”

“Oh, yes, they’re in the mollusk branch of shellfish allergies, with clams and oysters. I just…I swell up and get all tingly, not a pleasant sight to see. I’m so sorry.” 

“No, don’t apologize! I just wish I had known.” She said sternly, glaring at her stepdaughter.

“Don’t look at me, I had no idea,” she defended herself. 

“Well, seems you should know about something serious like that, if you’re really committed to a relationship. You could very well poison the poor man!”

“Like you were about to?” She replied, smirking.

“Can I help?” Lilac breezed in, unaware of the mini-showdown she was interrupting. Godmother put her fake smile back on, shaking her head dramatically.

“Let’s all move to the table, I’ll sort this out. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.” Godmother patted the Priest’s arm affectionately. 

“Good show, old man,” she whispered to the Priest as they moved to the dining room. He grinned and shrugged. 

She had to give it to Godmother, she was really trying hard to make some love connections tonight. She had them placed around the table strategically: Dad at one end, Lilac and the Priest to his right (next to Godmother, of course), she and Clive to his left. Godmother swooped in and made a production of placing plates in front of everyone with a flourish. “Salad, darling,” she said to the Priest, squeezing his shoulder.

“You are so kind, thank you,” he smiled. His love looked at his plate wistfully as the octopus was set in front of her. Why didn’t she think of faking an allergy? There was no way she could hide the rubber-looking monster anywhere, although she was tempted to toss it into a vase or under the couch when no one was looking, simply to leave Godmother searching for the stench days later. 

“Oh, Father, would you like to lead us in a little prayer?” Godmother gushed. “He was the priest who performed our wedding, such a beautiful day!” she said to Clive and Lilac. 

“Oh, no, no, I wouldn’t want to push a prayer on anyone.” He demurred. “I know this is a house divided.”

“Boy, is it ever,” she whispered into her drink. “Perhaps you want to say a prayer instead, bring this little bugger back to life?” She waved one tentacle at Lilac jokingly.

“Actually, that’s quite frowned upon, bringing back the dead.” Lilac sniffed. “Communication with the dead is one thing, reanimation is a completely different matter.”

“Good to know.”

“A toast…” Dad said, raising his glass. She really hoped he wouldn’t refer to the evening as another family gangbang; Lilac might take it as an invitation. “Old…new…friends…happiness to those in love.”

“Thanks, Dad,” she said genuinely, clinking her glass with his. Everyone raised their glasses in response before starting in on dinner. She wasn’t sure what part to start with – just saw off a tentacle or what? She’d definitely had worse things in her mouth before, but this was not going to be pleasant.

“Oh, darling, what a beautiful thing to say! Honestly, it’s like we only just got married! Every day it’s as if we’re falling in love all over again!” Godmother beamed at Dad.

“Well…yes, and…” Dad nodded at his daughter and the Priest.

“So, you and he, then…” Clive gestured between the two of them with his knife.

“Yup, for a few months now,” she stated proudly, smiling at her Priest. 

“I will admit, it was quite a whirlwind when the church changed its stance on celibacy. Some of the parishioners took it upon themselves to try to fix me up with various friends and family members. But really there was only one person I was interested in.” He smiled at her, much to Godmother’s chagrin.

“Don’t worry, Clive, you’ll still have a chance,” Godmother said, somehow managing to sound soothing and condescending at the same time. Clive did a doubletake.

“I’m sorry, what?” He said, confused.

“Yes, what?” She echoed, appalled at Godmother’s brazenness. She couldn’t believe she was actually still going to try to fix her up with Clive-the-not-quite-celibate-artist. The Priest was also looking at Godmother quizzically. 

To her credit, Godmother actually had the good sense to appear surprised that she had misspoken. “I mean, Father, this is only your first relationship in how many years? It’s like being on the rebound, you’re not going to stay with the first person you start up with.”

“You mean like you and my dad?” She said sarcastically. “I seem to recall you wasted no time after my mother’s funeral pursuing him.”

“Now, love…” Dad started gently. 

“I have no idea what you are referring to, I was here for _all of you:_ your father, you, Claire…we just happened to click.” Clive and Lilac were watching in fascination, exchanging curious glances with one another.

“Regardless of timing and years of being unattached, the heart wants what the heart wants. And my heart wants her.” The Priest stated simply. 

“Yes, well, once you get to know her better, we’ll see,” Godmother said, downing her wine and refilling her glass. 

“We actually know one another quite well!” She fumed, refiling her own glass and stabbing her fork into the head of her octopus, letting it remain there at an awkward angle.

The Priest added, “We became friends around the time of your wedding. In fact--” Oooh, she really hoped he was about to drop the bomb that they’d spent the entire night before the wedding fucking. The blow to Godmother would make the embarrassment of her dad finding out totally worth it. “—we met up pretty regularly throughout the past year.”

“Oh, but you know you’re not destined to last. I mean, she’s an _athiest_!”

“Darling…love…knows no…limits,” Dad said gently. 

“It is true, opposites attract. And if they don’t there’s ways to make them change their minds,” Lilac supplied, tapping the purple crystal hanging around her neck.

“But, you’re a priest! You’re kind and compassionate, and she’s—”

“--magnificient.” The Priest finished her sentence firmly. “She has a beautiful soul, she challenges me, makes me see the world through a different light.” He looked across the table at her, and she blinked back tears of affection while returning his smile. “Your love is teaching me how…how to kneel.”

OK, now she was fairly certain he was just quoting U2 lyrics, the cheeky bastard. The twinkle in his eye told her she was right. 

“You know,” he said thoughtfully, turning back to Godmother and laying a hand on her wrist. “We actually have you to thank for our relationship, since we met because of your wedding. So, in a way, we’re together all because of you.” 

“You are absolutely right, my love!” She exclaimed. “Cheers!” She raised her glass to Godmother and took a drink. Godmother looked as if she might explode.

“Why…how lovely. I didn’t think of it that way.” She smiled through gritted teeth. “Please, please, everyone, let’s enjoy dinner and perhaps discuss something else!”

The rest of dinner passed uneventfully, with Clive and Lilac describing their art studies and how Godmother encouraged them to pursue various mediums besides the ones they were most comfortable with. As Dad was clearing away the dishes, she pulled the Priest to a corner of the sitting room. “I want to fucking leave,” she whispered conspiratorially. “So I’ve got a plan.”

“What is it?” He asked, but instead of answering him, she pulled him in for a kiss, making sure Godmother noticed. 

He looked at her in surprise. “What, go at it right here until we get thrown out?” he whispered. 

“Oh, _darling_!” She said loudly, sounding just like Godmother. “Your lips are starting to swell! Are you having an allergic reaction?”

The Priest caught on quickly and grinned, just for her. “I am starting to feel a little tingly in my mouth…”  
“What?” Godmother exclaimed. “I took extra precautions to make sure nothing I served you had touched an octopus!”

“Oh, but I ate mine, and I just kissed him. I’m so sorry! I must have somehow transferred some of the toxins to you. Do we need to go to hospital?”

“You poisoned a priest with your kiss?” Lilac breathed. “I _must_ get your number!” They both shot her incredulous looks.

“Ah, no, I just need to get some antihistamines and I should be fine.” The Priest said, redirecting his attention to his love and Godmother. “But the symptoms can progress rather quickly, so we’d best head out.”

“There’s a shop around the corner, do you want one of us to run out for you?” Godmother looked pained.

“Antihistamines make me rather loopy, I’m afraid, so we really do need to go. I apologize, I hope I haven’t ruined your evening.” The Priest said while his love fetched their coats.

“ _You_ haven’t.” Godmother fixed her stepdaughter with a look of fury. “I just hope you’ll be alright.”

“Start slurring your words or something,” she muttered to him while they put their coats on. She ran and gave her dad a quick hug before saying goodbye to Clive and Lilac.

“I’m starting to feel a little lightheaded…” he said, steering them toward the door. “Thank you for an interesting evening, and, uh…yeah.”

“Goodnight! Let me know how things turn out!” Godmother called as they shut the door behind them at last. They practically skipped down the stairs and took off laughing down the street like a pair of teenagers.

“What the fuck?” the Priest laughed after they had gotten far enough away from the house. “I mean, I thought an evening with my family was painful…”

“Again, she is not my family,” she shuddered, taking the Priest’s arm since his hands were shoved into his pockets. “Good call on the fake allergy!”

“Actually, I do need to get some antihistamines.”

“Wait, you’re really allergic?” She stopped on the sidewalk, a look of alarm on her face. He looked back at her sheepishly before breaking into a huge grin.

“Nah, I just wanted to see the look on your face. Priceless!”

“Thank God,” she said, taking his arm again as they resumed walking. “I thought maybe I really had poisoned you.”

“No, my brother is the one with the mollusk allergy, so we were never subjected to octopus while growing up, thankfully. How was it?”

“Like chewing a mushy condom,” she grimaced. She waited to see if he would say anything else about his brother, knowing they still weren’t speaking. She didn’t even know his name. When it appeared that he wasn’t going to elaborate, she changed the subject. “Thank you for all the sweet words you said earlier. The “Vertigo” lyric was a nice touch: ‘You love is teaching me how….how to kneel,’” she sang.

“I wanted to keep it light, even though your Godmother was really aggravating me. I don’t like the way she treats you.” He said, glancing sideways at her.

“Ah, I’m used to it.” She waved her hand in the air, as if to wave Godmother out of her life. “Did you really mean all of it, though? Am I really magnificent with a beautiful soul?”

This time the Priest stopped them on the sidewalk. “Yes, you are,” he said seriously, turning to face her. “And I also meant that there was no one else I wanted to be with when the celibacy rules were lifted. Even if we hadn’t spent the past year together as friends, if I hadn’t seen you since that night at the bus stop, I would still have showed up at your doorstep that day, begging you to give me another chance.” She blushed and looked down, almost too shy to meet his eye. “Hey,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and trying to bring her back. “I mean it. You are an amazing woman and I am so lucky that you would even glance in my direction, much less be with me. I just wish you saw that about yourself.”

“I’m the lucky one,” she gave a small smile. “A lying priest who stood up to Godmother and defended me? And you know ‘kneel’ is one of my trigger words. You are getting _all_ the sex tonight.”

“All the sex, huh? What exactly does that include? ‘Cause Lilac gave me her number, as did Clive.”

“Damnit, you got both of them? I should start calling you Mr. Sex!” She laughed and kissed him lightly. “I knew Clive wasn’t interested in me!”

“He’s a fool, but yes, I’m not sure you’re exactly his type,” he said as they resumed walking again. “As for your Godmother, I have a theory about why she’s so awful to you.”

“She’s a complete and utter bitch who weasles her way into other people’s families?” She suggested.

“Maybe so…” he ventured. “And this is pure speculation, since I didn’t get the honor of meeting her, but do you suppose she has it in for you because you remind her too much of your mother? That the reality that she’ll never live up to the woman she’s replaced just taps into her insecurity?”

She thought it over a moment. “So, she’s jealous, then? In a weird, possessive stepmonster way? Huh.” 

“Either that or your weasling bitch theory, that makes sense, too.” He wove his fingers into hers and put both their hands in his coat pocket to ward off the cold of the evening. “Any chance that Claire will move back so some of the attention will be taken off of us?”

“Afraid not. She and Klare are happily ensconced in Finland, there’s no way they’ll settle here.”

“That’s too bad. I know how much you miss her.”

“You know, Godmother wanted to try to set you up with Claire, saying you’d be perfect for one another. Although maybe she was just saying that to rile me up.”

"Me and Claire?” The Priest questioned. “She kind of scares me, honestly. I think I’m with the correct sister.” He kissed her temple, and they walked in silence for a bit before he spoke again. “So, I have some news…”

“Good or bad?”

“Good, good…as part of his tenure, Deacon Michael is going to start doing Saturday services.” Due to a recent uptick in parishioners at the church, a deacon was assigned to assist the Priest a month or so earlier. “He’s basically in his last year of studies before becoming an ordained priest.” He had explained to her at the time. “He’s been studying for years and had fully committed himself to a priest’s way of life, but now that the celibacy rule’s been lifted, the poor bloke doesn’t know what to think.”

“Wait, does this mean I get you all to myself from Friday afternoons until Sunday mornings now?”

“Well, until early Sunday morning, and as long as I don’t have any scheduled weddings or funerals, but yeah. And the best part? Once a month he’s going to do Sunday services, too.”

“Hold on.” She said, putting all the pieces together. “You’ll get entire weekends off?”

“Yeah. Once a month.”

“As in, I can close the café or leave it to my assistant and we can lock ourselves in my flat for three days?”

“Yeah.” He nodded enthusiastically.

“We could go away on weekend trips!” She exclaimed excitedly. “Where should we go?” 

“Dunno, we can sort it out later. I thought you’d like this, though.” Uninterrupted time together was hard to come by, what with all of his church duties and her café responsibilities. The prospect of having even just a few days together without any work obligations was truly a luxury.

“And just like that, our horrific evening is back on track.” She sighed contentedly. “Time to go back to my original wishes for the evening.”

“First that takeaway, because I’m starved…” the Priest moaned.

“And then, all the sex!” She laid her head against his shoulder and smiled, happy they’d survived a nightmare evening with her Dad and Godmother and wouldn’t have to do it again for awhile. Now it was time to focus on just the two of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not really sure if a deacon could conduct mass on his own, but what's a little stretching of the truth in fanfic fantasy land, right?


End file.
